


Another Tragic Tale Told Through Tragic People

by WritingIsMyCoffee



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, IPRE Bureau of Balance swap!, M/M, Temporary Character Death, bc this is the Stolen Century lovelies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14320962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingIsMyCoffee/pseuds/WritingIsMyCoffee
Summary: AU where the seven birds of the IPRE are swapped with Bureau of Balance employees (with the exception of Scales because I needed a pair of siblings)





	1. Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Grace? Don't you have three other multi-chaptered fics you haven't updated in a while and a dozen projects you gotta get turned in before the end of the school year?
> 
> Yes, I only do this because I have no self-control.
> 
> I've had the idea of a Johavi Stolen Century AU for a while (bc I'm Johavi trash, Moonbase Mixtape made that evident enough), but then I made up a whole dang AU about a BOB swap so here we are. Updates will definitely be sporadic because I have a wild schedule rn but maybe, just MAYBE this will be a fic I do eventually finish in a short period of time and don't update once every month...
> 
> Hopefully you all can put up with my upload rates and enjoy whatever this is.

Avi opens his dusty PO box with mild indifference and reaches in to grab the few pieces of mail he has received for the day. Like all adults wired into the work system, his fried brain barely processes the words on the front of the envelopes, only latching onto the vague words bill, bill, ad, and the International Planer Research & Exploration institute.

Eyelids heavy and bones aching from a tedious day of manual labor, he trudges up to his apartment and slaps his mail on the kitchen counter to be dealt with another day. Throwing himself onto his sad excuse for a couch (a smelly old futon with a cushion flatter than his ass), Avi lets out a long, heavy sigh before sinking into a peaceful oblivion.

Then he sits up with a start and scrambles to his feet, racing to the kitchen.

 

Leon ignores the sharp pain in his back and continues to read over his acceptance letter, an abnormal smile stretching across his withered face. The zombified accountants trudging behind him barely register in his mind, nor does the ever-constant sound of opened filing cabinets and telephone calls. In fact, for the first time in a long time, the gray world around him starts to find some color.

A monotone voice tries to block the stream of light shining through his one window to a better outside world. “You got those reports filed yet, Leon?”

His arthritis-stricken fingers fold up his letter with ease, taking a faint moment to trail over the intended crest of the IPRE logo inside. He tucks it away in his breast pocket, pushing aside his long, graying beard to get there.

“No. In fact, I quit.”

 

Scales finishes reading through his own acceptance letter right before his stone of farspeech starts blaring Fantasy Beyoncé at the top of its metal lungs. With one hand desperately clutching his letter and the other reaching into his pocket, he blinks away the tears of joy forming in his eyes and grins hard enough for his cheeks to sting. He holds his stone up to his ear and breathes out, “Carey?”

“Did you get in? Jeremy, did you get in? I swear to the gods, if you didn’t-“

“I got in! I…I-I got in. You?”

“Yeah. Yeah, buddy. We’re going to touch the stars.”

 

Carey goes on her routine evening jog to celebrate his acceptance as the IPRE’s newest security officer onboard The Starblaster, this time with an extra spring in her stride. She passes by her normal stops and waves widely at their patrons, all of them knowing just exactly the cause for her spike of joy.

As she makes her rounds back towards her apartment, she catches her landlord on their way down the street, a friendly look on their face.  

“You look mighty happy Carey,” they remark. “What’s the occasion?”

Carey flashes her pointed teeth and laughs. “Avery, you cool if I give you my rent early? I’m, uh…gonna be staying in a different plane for a few months.”

 

Like the punctual maniac he is, Brad starts backing for the journey a month in advance, despite not knowing what conditions the other planes have in store for them. If the weather is anything like their planet, then a few pairs of his khaki pants and polo shirts should be perfectly acceptable year-round. Then again, he should back his thermal gear in case they end up on a tundra-like climate, or maybe his more summer like clothes in case the weather is humid. Oh, if that’s the case, he’ll want to head out and buy some hairspray to combat the frizz his long ponytail is prone to having in the heat. Then again, maybe he should take the chance of the weather not being humid and safe the space to back a wider variety of clothing. No, he can never be more careful when it comes to hair care-

He stops. He’s been holding his breath again. Closing his eyes, he takes in a slow, deep breath and ails his burning lungs. He holds it in until the count of ten and lets it go, sending with it his pent-up anxiety. Or at least, a sizable chunk of it. He can’t rid himself of his stressful tendencies with a few simple breathing exercises, but he can alleviate himself for the time being.

This is insane. Brad’s hardly left his hometown for longer than a week, hardly his entire planar system for _three months_. There’s no telling that the crew will face out there, or what dangers could be lurking. Why did he even apply for a job that would take him so far out of his comfort zone? Why did he apply for a safer, normal job at his local library or the nearby university or even a position at Fantasy Taco Bell instead of getting himself sent _into space?_

He stops himself again. Closes his eyes and counts to ten. By the time he opens his eyes, his application letter is back in his hands and unfolded right in front of him.

“This is why you’re going,” he tells himself. “This is why you’re doing this. You worked hard to get here, Brad. Don’t back out now.”

He tucks his letter back into his pocket and abandons his suitcase to be packed another day.

 

Johann wishes he had packed his bags in advanced instead of his literal day of departure from his planar system.

Without the liberty of folded clothing, he starts stuffing as many garments as he possibly can into his small duffle bag and prays that a few clean pairs of underwear make it in there along the way. A few random toiletries make their way into the carnage along the way, along with some mix-matched socks and a spare pair of lime-green flip-flops (why he doesn’t have time to answer).

In a separate bag, he more carefully stows away his overstuffed music folder, foldable music stand, and various pieces of equipment. His medolica makes it in there along the way, as well as his kalimba, his lute, his recorder, his ukulele, and his _oh gods he forgot his robe in the washer downstairs_.

Swinging his duffels over his shoulders and grabbing his violin case with haste, Johann races out the door and down the street, wondering how easy it’ll be for him to break into his local laundry mat if they aren’t already open.

 

Garfield gazes upon the crowd gathered around his ship with their microphones and shiny cameras and grins.

Years of swindling his way to the top of the IPRE food chain and easy manipulation has landed him the honor of all the fame and glory he could ever imagine in an age of pre-planar exploration. How odd it is to think less than a decade ago he was barely scraping by as the owner of a lousy pawn shop and how he has cemented himself into a glorious position of power.

True, he has _some_ responsibility looking over six other life forms and piloting the most expensive investment of the institution, but those are just minor obstacles on the track to riches he has envisioned. Garfield’s plan for the next three months? Fly this planar system’s equivalent to The Black Pearl for a little bit, avoid the needy crew as much as possible, and return with arms outstretched to receive all the rewards.

It’s foolproof, and if it isn’t, he’ll just convince himself otherwise. Sometimes it’s easier to swindle himself than others.

If he wanted to, he could convince the crowd of reporters the weird black cloud in the distance is a destructive force that is going to consume them all as they take off, just to wreck some mischief and mayhem for the heck of it. But no, he’ll content himself by simply smiling and answering the public’s questions.

No need to raise any hell when he’s so close to getting his show on the road.


	2. Turn Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carey gets angry. Garfield calls the shots. Leon bids his time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting as many chapters out as I can before a) my creativity dries up or b) I run out of free time
> 
> Also Garfield is.....really hard to characterize......so sorry he sucks
> 
> Thanks for all the nice comments and kudos last chapter!

Carey loves her brother, but she would hardly consider herself an affectionate sibling. If it weren’t for her general buddy-like personality and easy-going tendencies, she’s pretty sure Jeremy would think of her as a gigantic asshole who steals his stuff when he’s not looking and punches him a little too hard when sparring.

That being said, it’s impossible to let go of her brother’s hand as they watch their home get devoured by a relentless storm of death. Figures it takes a life-shattering event like this for her soft side to come out.

“Care…” Jeremy’s voice trembles and gods, his voice hasn’t shook like this since they were kids and Brent Carlyle broke his harp in half during recess. What Carey wouldn’t give to be able to punch this death cloud in the face and brake its nose. What she wouldn’t give to turn back time to just a few minutes ago and stop whatever the hell is happening to their plane, to their _home_ -

“Mom and dad are down there,” is all she croaks in a hoarse whisper and sure, they had never fully accepted her when she came out to them, and they had forced their lively hood tradition of her being a bard and Jeremy a paladin down their throats, and their very attitude towards the two of them had always been toxic, but that’s the only family they had and they’re watching them _die_ from the safety of this silver ship.

“Do you think…? It has to stop. It can’t…It _can’t-_ “

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Jeremy. I don’t know.”

His hand shakes in hers. “We could’ve been down there.”

Carey doesn’t respond. She can’t find the courage to open her mouth again and ask _why_ , because the more she questions what’s going on, the more real it becomes. Everything she knows is slowly, painstakingly being stripped away from her. Her rent house, her jogging stops, her landlord, her neighbors, her friends, her extended family-

Everyone but Jeremy. Everyone but Jeremy is gone.

The realization finally dawning on her, Carey gets angry. She gets angry _fast_ and marches her way towards the captain.

 

“ _We have to back!_ ” Avi screams for the fifth time in the past minute, to the dismay of his vocal chords. His grip on the railing of the ship has turned his knuckles white and aching; he wouldn’t be surprised if somehow he found a way to bent the metal lining keeping him from falling into oblivion.

“That’s _not_ gonna happen little man!” Garfield growls back from behind the steering wheel, consequently for the fifth time in the past minute also. “No way ol’ Garfield can carve us back through that catastrophe behind us! We gotta book it outta here.”

“They’re dying back there! Our home, Captain! For gods sake, _turn around!_ ”

Garfield lifts one furry hand off the wheel and somehow manages to snap his stubby fingers. Avi feels every muscle in his body tense and lock up like he’s just been doused in ice water. With a flick of his captain’s wrist, he’s turned around to face the window, his jaw set so he has little chance to speak in protest. There’s another snap, too soon for warning, and Avi stumbles on his footing before he’s turned back around again.

“Happy, engineer?” his captain _coos_.

Avi sees red. His family is dying right below his feet-his mother, father, siblings, _everyone_ -and his captain is acting as if the real problem here is how badly he wants to go save their plane. Their _home_.

He takes a step forward, hands clenched into trembling fists, fully intent on rushing to the wheel and taking control of this fucking fiasco. Brad’s eyes bore into from the other side of the room, pleading with him not to make the situation worse than it already is. Avi ignores him. He ignores everyone else in the room and trains himself on the smug feline he’s entrusted his life, and now the lives of their entire plane, on.

Just as he starts to move, Carey beats him to the punch. _Literally_. The dragonborn flies into the room like a missile, slugging Garfield in the side of his plump jaw with a vengeful cry.

All eyes fly to her, even Johann, who hasn’t looked away from the window since they flew into orbit. Brad looks like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown, too much happening around him in too short a time. Leon on the other hand looks mostly indifferent, but there’s a dip in his lips that speaks volumes in his silent demeanor.

Carey’s brother Jeremy runs into the room just as Garfield finishes taking the hit. Their captain spares a moment to rub the side of his face, his eyes narrowing, before snapping his fingers again. This time, everyone stiffens like a board, their bodily movements stripped away from them just like their home plane. With a few strangled yelps, Garfield spins them around the room once and throws them into their seats, the seats they were supposed to stay in throughout the entire liftoff. Just as Ai feels his muscles relax, his seatbelt is magically fastened into place. When he tries to undo it, he finds it permanently stuck.

Carey is kicking and screaming in her seat, demanding like The Raven Queen has a scythe to her neck to let her go. Avi starts to struggle too, even if he knows it won’t help anything. It just makes him feel like he has some ounce of control here.

“YOU BASTARD! TURN AROUND! GO BACK!” she yells furiously. Her claws are digging into her seat’s upholstery, the stuffing underneath becoming shredded in the process.

Garfield doesn’t answer her, keeping his back to all of them as he continues to pilot them out of harm’s way. His posture is straight, his stance rigid. His tail is wound closely to his backside, like a whip waiting to be snapped. Whatever is going through their captain’s head is locked in his own mind, sure to come out once he makes their escape for them.

Carey continues to scream (Avi and Jeremy joining her soon enough) as Garfield carries _The Starblaster_ farther and farther away from the black mass of death and destruction tearing apart their past lives. Minutes of desperate pleading are futilely spent as the last of the darkness is far behind them and the blinding light of the Bond engine taken control of the next leg of the journey.

 _We’re not going back_ , he realizes too late.

A spindles of pure white envelope Avi’s body, his voice cracks one last time and falls silent.

 

 

Leon never married, or did he have any family left on their home plane to call his own. Besides his deceased parents and second cousins he had alienated himself from, there is no one waiting for his return.

Or at least, there wasn’t.

Now, floating in a vast, unfamiliar cosmos, worries that have never occurred to him flutter into his mind like wounded butterflies. He’s grateful he didn’t just have to witness anyone he loved perish helplessly from The Starblaster; it’s a blessing no one else on board has the ability to receive.

Then again, isn’t that just another reminder for how much of his life he’s squandered away? An old gnome like him without any ties to another living soul, who is now trapped on a metaphorical sinking ship with a handful of mourners. Is this how he’s supposed to spend the rest of his pitiful existence, isolating himself from the foreign trauma the others are going through and wait for any chance to start a new life on another plane?

Leon knows his days are numbered at his age, so Garfield’s explanation for stripping away what little comfortable formality in his life from him better be adequate.

 “How…how could you…?” Avi’s worn voice tries to eek out of his raspy throat. The poor boy needs a glass of water.

Garfield finally turns to face then, eyes wide and unapologetic. It would make Leon sick if he had the energy to care. All his old, tired subconscious feels is numbness. “How could I what, engineer? How could I _save_ us from certain doom and get us _safely_ away from that hell hole, _hmm?_ ”

“That hell hole was out HOME!” Carey _graciously_ reminds him. “And you just left everyone we care about to _die!_ ”

Garfield knits his paws together in front of him. “And what would you have done to save our plane, Miss Fangbattle? Hmm? Throw a couple knives, shoot some fire at a little cloud of black nothingness? Were you gonna steal from it until it asked you to stop?”

Carey’s nostrils flare. “How the fuck-?”

“You expected your captain to not do a background check on his entire crew?” Garfield laughs, clearly amused. “The institution assured me they were handing me the best group of people they had available, but it takes a con to smell out another one.”

Leon rubs at his temples, his confusion growing more with every second. “What are you _talking about_ , Mr. Garfield?” He’s wasting his time and any composure he has left to support his calm façade.

“I did some research before we took off, just to get a feel for how my crew would be able to conduct themselves in case we ever ran into some clusterfuck like _that_.” He points out into the empty abyss of stars, but everyone knows what he’s really gesturing to. “Miss Fangbattle, you have an _extensive_ record with the militia, a record I believe you tried to get illegally expunged.”

This time, it’s the younger Fangbattle that starts screaming while his sister falls quiet. “Hey! That’s not for you to share with anybody!”

“There’s no HR in space.” Garfield’s lips curl. “As for you, boy, all your credentials as a transmutation expert have been forged. Some even taken from deceased members of the field, am I right?”

It’s hard to notice, but Leon swears with his weathered eyes that Jeremy visibly pales. Like his sister, he goes silent.

Garfield continues. “Brad, you failed your abjuration exam three times before bribing your classmate to help throw the test and let you pass. By all standards, you shouldn’t even be on board this vessel.”

Leon spies brad beginning to shake from the corner of his vision.

“Avi, besides a few drunk skirmishes that landed you in the militia’s custody, your other combat experience involves holding a crowbar above your head and beating at a piece of machinery until it starts working again. You don’t offer much to the team in the way of defense.”

Avi’s eyes narrow, but its clear the young man barely has the strength to fight back anymore.

Garfield looks to Johann and simply eyes him down. The lad hasn’t stopped looking out the window since they hit the sky, his eyes distance and bleak. A long, long moment passes as Johann continues to be oblivious to the attention directed his way.

“I guess I don’t really need to go into detail with our bard friend, now do I? Why the institute felt the need to send a musician up here to help with the bond engine is beyond me.”

If Johann hears him, he doesn’t offer any reaction, leaving Leon to face the last bullet of Garfield’s cruel pistol.

“Last but not least, I’ve got an ex-Artificer who barely qualifies as a medic taking up one more cabin downstairs. But judging by the wrinkles on your face, Dear Leon, you probably signed up knowing you wouldn’t make it back home, right? What is this for you then? Come kind of last hurray?”

 _Yes_ , Leon almost says, just out of spite, but bites his tongue like the rest of his crewmates. He may not have the time everyone else has, but he has enough patience left to know when to pick his battles. To speak now would only make the situation uglier (if that’s even possible).

Garfield shakes his head, dropping his devious grin. “This is not a ship of comrades in arms. This is a ship full of liars, of cowards. None of us stood a lick of survival against whatever the fuck that thing was. Call me whatever you like because of my decision, but just realize you all aren’t much better, folks.”

With that, he turns back to the wheel and carries The Starblaster out farther into space, unclipping their seatbelts with a firm snap of his fingers.


	3. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avi frets. Johann plays. Carey picks a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some completely self-indulgent Johavi (Okay, it's not completely self-indulgent, it relates to the plot)

Animals.

It’s all just…animals. Everyone on this plane is an animal, and none of them speak common or gnomish or anything. All they can do is look at the crew with their black beady eyes and grunt like…well, _animals_.

Avi is going to lose his fucking mind.

Is this how he’s going to spend the rest of his life? Living amongst the creatures from the picture books his mama would read to him as a child? No, he shouldn’t think of his mom. It’ll only make him cry. The issue still stands, though.

How are they going to live like this?

They’ll have to become vegetarians, because Avi sure as hell isn’t going to try and eat their _neighbors_. Sure, he’ll miss having a big, juicy steak for dinner, but he knows it’ll be healthier for him in the long run. It’ll probably help get rid of his small beer belly (or brandy belly more accurately).

Oh damn, animals can’t brew brandy.

 _Shit_.

It’s too much to take in all at once. Avi likes logging his body with junk. Having to give up all his indulgent tendencies right after losing his home is overwhelming him. What’s next? He has to shave his curly hair because the sheep here will think he’s racist?

“Avi? Are you okay?” Brad’s voice cuts through his ramped thoughts.

“Huh?” He jumps, suddenly aware he’s been staring inside the ship’s fridge for a good ten minutes or so by now. Sheepishly (is it racist to say that here too?), he closes the door and allows the cold air inside to accumulate again. “Sorry. Just…spaced out there for a sec. I-I’m good.”

Brad eyes him apprehensively. “You sure?”

“Totally. One hundred percent-o.” Percent-o? Gods, that sounded so lame coming out of his mouth.

“You’re, uh, hands are shaking, though.”

Avi looks down at his hands and, huh, speak of The Raven Queen. He tucks his hands in his pockets and plays it cool. “I’m sure they’ll cut it out eventually.”

Brad’s eyebrows scrunch together in worry and Avi can feel the sweat trailing down his forehead. He hates being cornered like this, where people can see just how anxious and fragile he really is. He lets his head get to him at the worst of times.

“If you-if it…if it helps…I know a couple breathing exercises that can help you with that. Or at least help you calm down. If you’d like…?”

Avi is suddenly convinced this is some sort of high stakes mission and his brain is screaming _ABORT ABORT_. He doesn’t want Brad’s help, or anyone’s help for that matter. He’s fine. He’s fine, really. He just needs to stop spacing out and get his hands to stop shaking and quit thinking of ways he could have snuck his family onboard the ship and start acting stronger than he actually is because everyone around him is falling apart at the seems and somebody has to keep their cool around here and and and-

“No. I’m good, but thanks Brad.”

An automatic response for a scenario Avi is too familiar with.

“I’m just…gonna go check up on the engine. If anyone needs me, you’ll tell them where to find me, right?”

Brad’s face falls but he nods regardless. “Yeah, I’ll…do that. You know, Avi, it’s okay to ask for help-“

 _Nope nope nope_ , Avi thinks as he walks straight past Brad and right out the kitchen door. It’s rude but he’ll apologize later.

He just needs some space and some fresh air and an alcoholic drink in his hands that he’s never going to get.

 

Johann stares at the bond engine and lets its pale, translucent light wash over him. The only sound it offers to cut through the suffocating silence of the forest surrounding them is a dull, high-pitched hum. A high C, to be more exact.

Deciding to match the engine’s pitch, Johann brings his lute up to his chest and beings to pluck a familiar solemn melody. He closes his eyes and loses himself to the notes as they sing through the air. It’s an older tune he learned from his days as a young half-elf, following close to the heels of the caravan he thought had been his family for years.

Now, the people who abandoned him without any warning are gone, but their song remains.

Not all of them were terrible in Johann’s eyes. There was Benjamin, the cook, who always slipped him an extra biscuit with dinner and taught him the basics when it came to culinary skills. Amalee, who chipped in to help him buy his first harp. Christey, who took a day off to take him to buy his rosewood violin because he was still only a kid and it was dangerous to go out into a big city at night by himself.

The faces of his friends, their presence from his life severed before their own lives ever were, pass through his thoughts and are translated into every note he plucks out. His fingers adjust to the melody as time goes on and eventually strum the chords at a steady tempo. It sounds nothing like the first time he heard it played, on a illuminated stage surrounded by cheering crowds. That version of the song had been exciting, joyful, exuberant.

This is much slower, much softer, with a much different meaning entirely.

The song ends with one final strum, the sounds carrying through the trees before fading back into silence.

When Johann opens his eyes, the bond engine is glowing far brighter than it was before he started to play.

“Woah.”

Johann yelps, clutching his lute close to him as he turns to see Avi standing right behind him. His face grows hot and his shoulders hunch up to meet his jaw, as if his head could sink into his chest like a turtle into its shell. There’s a look on Avi’s face that makes it quite apparent he’s been listening to him play this entire time and it makes him want to curl up into a ball and get punted into oblivion.

“That was…” Avi beams. “Incredible! And Garfield thinks your useless.”

The tightness in Johann’s shoulders give out and he allows himself to relax just a bit. Some kind of warmth spreads through his body, fueled by the sudden praise he has received. “Uh, thanks man. It wasn’t even, like…that good but…thanks.”

Avi looks like someone just insulted his mother. “Are you kidding?! You were like _pluck pluck pluuuuuck_ , and then you were like _la la laaaaaa_ , and it was all just…so good, dude!” His fingers poorly mimic Johann’s actions as he speaks, his eyes wide with an excitement no one on the ship has had in weeks. “Holy shit, how did you learn to do that?”

Johann shrugs. “Taught myself mostly. Picked some stuff up along the years. Practiced a lot.”

The radiant look on Avi’s face just won’t go away and Johann is starting to think his face is heating up for another reason entirely. “That’s fucking sick. So what did you, like…do to the engine? Looks like you know more about it than me.”

Avi looks to the bond engine and Johann follows his gaze, shifting his lute to a more comfortable position in his arms. “It runs on the power of bonds. I guess the institute thought we wouldn’t all bond so well, so they started doing experiments on it to see how to give it more power. They told me my music seems to do the trick.”

“Well, the institute wasn’t wrong,” Avi remarks and Johann’s not quite sure which part of the conversation he’s commenting on. “So it feeds off your emotions or whatever?”

“Basically.”

“Does it work with anything else?”

Johann thinks back to the long days he spent with achy fingers playing the same melody over and over again to give the institution something to work with. “Maybe? Music seems to do the best whenever there isn’t enough bond power through people to take care of it. I’m sure there’s other stuff, though.”

“Neat-o,” Avi says right before he grimaces. “I mean, neat.”

Johann nods. “Did you need anything or did you just want to spy on me?”

Avi jerks. “I wasn’t-! I was gonna check on the engine. You distracted me.”

“I’m just messin’ with you. It’s cool,” he assures him. “What’d you need to check the engine for?”

“Well, nothing now…actually nothing at all. I just-“ he cuts himself off with a sigh. “I just needed to get some fresh air. Too much going on right now. I’m driving myself insane just…thinking about what happened.”

“Hmm.”

“Have you been holding in okay?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, you haven’t spoken to anybody since we landed,” Avi reminds him. “Do you need to talk to someone?”

“Do you?”

It comes off too sarcastic, too defensive, and Johann kicks himself as he watches the light fade form Avi’s eyes. “Honestly, yes,” the other man admits. “I’m just…not ready to yet.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, with the sudden urge to look down at his feet. He gives in and stares at the green grass beneath his flip-flops. “Me too.”

He feels Avi’s eyes land on him, but he doesn’t look up to meet his gaze. Just a sliver of vulnerability has exhausted him and suddenly Johann feels like he could nap for a year. Not to mention he kind of just killed the entire vibe of their conversation.

Way to be a downer, as always.

“Well-“ Avi clears his throat. “I guess we’ll just have to work on that together, huh?”

 That’s when Johann looks back up to him. A complicated social formula begins to form in his brain to solve how Avi was able to salvage the moment with one simple sentence. By this point, his face is on fire and it’s really starting to frustrate him.

Gods, he’s given any ounce of affection and his emotions go into overdrive.

Just as he opens his mouth to respond-probably with a casual, “Yeah,” or meek “Y-Yeah”- a familiar pair of dragonborn siblings come bounding out of the woods at full speed, their strides wild and their feet pounding.

“Woah, what the hell happened?” Avi asks as Carey and Scales stop just a few feet shy of him, gasping for breath. “You two look more panicked than normal.”

“Power…bear…” Carey wheezes. “There’s…a giant…power bear!”

“What?”

Scales takes a deep breath and rushes out a full sentence before his lungs collapse on him again. “There’s a giant bear my sister wants to fight and two other large animals who have the light of creation. I…don’t like her odds.”

“How big we talkin’?” Avi asks.

Scales holds out his arms to their full length for comparison. In arm terms, it’s a fucking lot.

“Damn,” Johann mutters.

Avi winces. “We _kinda_ need that light, don’t we?”

Carey nods furiously. “And _I’m_ gonna be the one who gets it for us!”

“Hold it right there, Fangbattle!”

A sinister, unwelcome coo echoes down from the side of the ship. Johann looks up to see their favorite feline captain in the whole wide planar system eyeing them all down like a piece of meat. Garfield brings a hand up under his chin and swishes his tail menacingly behind his back. The grin on his face barely phases Johann, but leaves an undeniable chill in the air.

“You want to go off on a high stakes mission without your commanding officer? _Hmm?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Have a nice day!


End file.
